


Encore?

by darklordtomarry (alarminghella)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fem!Harry, Fem!Tom - Freeform, Femslash, Wrong Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24242527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alarminghella/pseuds/darklordtomarry
Summary: This is Carmine—specifically, the British production of Carmen—but also not Carmine at all.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	Encore?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tiredcreecher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredcreecher/gifts).



> hey fish, it actually happened. i have no explanation.

Harry scurried out of Diagon Alley, through the Leaky Cauldron, and onto the streets of muggle London. She had stepped on quite a few toes, literally, in her mad dash escape. Not that it was an escape. Her parents thought she would be shopping in Diagon Alley and then returning to the Weasley’s. Ron and Hermione thought her parents wouldn’t let her stay the night at the Weasley’s and that she would be returning home to Godric’s Hollow. 

It wasn’t unreasonable for her parents to want her to stay home. The-boy-who-lived, Neville Longbottom, was on the run from the Dark Lord, and anyone who had vaguely known him had been questioned by the Ministry, herself included. 

Corrupt sacks of dragondung. Like her parents, all she could do was hope Dumbledore and Neville would somehow be able to stop Voldemort and bring some sanity back to the world. 

Pausing in front of a tube station, she checked the instructions that had arrived via owl yesterday morning. Find the correct tube station and all she had to do was take the northbound train for five stops and get off. Easy. 

Harry pressed through the crowd of muggle workers, her small frame getting jostled by the moving masses. Something shoved into her, and her face impacted hard with the back of a man in front of her. Harry’s cheeks stung from the rough wool of his jacket, and when he turned around to see who had hit him, his look of disdain grew before he huffed off, pushing people out of the way. 

Given her odd outfit, he probably thought she was some sort of urchin or pickpocket. Her robes certainly looked out of place in muggle London. Boarding the train in a sea of people, Harry was pressed up against the glass and forced to stare at her reflection. Her hair that had been neatly brushed and styled was sticking in all different directions again, and the small bit of lipstick she deemed to paint on stood out to her. Harry never wore makeup, but she wanted today to be special. Underneath her robes was an outfit Tom had sent her, a cute red dress with gold trim to celebrate Harry’s graduation from Hogwarts. 

She hadn’t known what to think at first. Tom had gotten her size and style perfectly. Sporty enough to suit the Gryffindor seeker, but not short enough to attract unwanted attention. 

Harry grinned at her reflection. There was no denying she wanted Tom’s attention. Undoing the top button of her robe, she could see the warm colour of Tom’s gift, and the silver-gold of the locket Tom had entrusted her with. It sat under her clothes, it’s cool metal brushing her breasts with any major movement. 

Having let her mind wander, she nearly missed getting off the train at the right station. Why Tom had insisted Harry take the train and apparating—well, she would press the issue. Apparating was so much quicker and easier. 

She left the tube station and jogged up the stairs, her calves enjoying the slight burn. Her Mary Janes created a hard ringing with each step. 

This part of London was utterly alien to her, but beautiful nonetheless. Skyscrapers pierced the sky, their reflective windows blending into the clouds and managing to make an eerie endlessness she had associated with home—Hogwarts—for years. 

A hand on her arm pulled her from her thoughts, and she reached for her wand without thinking. 

“Calm down. It’s just me,” said Tom, spinning her around so they could face each other. 

In every way Harry was deficient, Tom was not. Beautiful straight hair, good eyesight, long slender legs. She bit her lip at the thought of Tom’s gorgeous legs. “I can see that.” 

Hand sliding down Harry’s arm, Tom’s fingers intertwined with hers, and they held hands. Tom gave a small, commanding tug in one direction, and Harry eagerly followed. 

Tom had been sent by the Ministry to observe and assist the staff after Dumbledore had been exiled. Freshly out of Beauxbatons, she had faced resentment and ridicule from the students, but Harry had learned Tom was merely a victim of ignorance of the political climate. Tom hadn’t known she was supposed to be a Ministry toady. 

Their first encounter took place during a quiet night of studying in the library. Before that, Harry had been avoidant of Tom because Neville told her to. Dean and Seamus seemed to hate her as well. After knocking over her stack of books, though, Tom had been the only one to come help her tidy up. 

When Tom had asked Harry for her name, she had been surprised, but kind and understanding. They bonded over their shared situation, of being assigned a male name. Tom’s mother had died giving birth and had insisted her child would have their father’s name, and they had apparently followed through on that. 

Harry… She suspected her father lost a bet to Sirius and managed to convince her mother it was a good idea. 

She came out of her thoughts when Tom pulled her down a dark alleyway and pushed Harry against the wall, the rough brick scratching at her through her robes. 

“Rude,” Harry said and was quickly silenced by Tom’s soft, red lips on hers. Harry returned the kiss, her hands travelling to Tom’s hips and squeezing them. 

Their first kiss had been just like this. Except it had been a snowy day in Hogsmeade, and Tom had broken away and run back to the school, scared for her reputation. 

Now, as Tom’s hands drifted to the top of Harry’s robes and began to undo the buttons, now, it was different. Harry had graduated, and they could do this with no fear of repercussions. 

The front of her robe fell open, and Tom gripped Harry’s ribs, the tips of her thumbs brushing over Harry’s stiffening nipples. 

Breaking the kiss, Tom stepped back and took the sight in. The lewd grin on her face said more than enough. 

“Do you like it?” Harry asked, gripping the edge of the skirt and giving Tom a poor curtsey. 

“I love it.” Tom closed the distance again, pushing the robe off Harry’s shoulders and onto the ground. 

It didn’t matter. She could buy a new one. 

“And you’re wearing my locket.” Approaching her, Tom gripped the chain encircling Harry’s neck and lifted the locket up and out of her dress. It’s cool touch left a trail of gooseflesh where it made contact. 

“I keep it close to my heart.”

Tom cocked her head to the side, a wide smile reaching her glittering eyes. “Such a romantic.”

Lightly punching Tom’s arm, not hard enough to hurt, Harry tucked it back down her dress. “You’re the one who gave it to me. Told me to keep our hearts together.”

Tom said nothing, though her lips quirked as her index finger trailed down the side of Harry’s face, moved lower to her neck, to her collarbone, and then to the top of the dress, where she undid the top button, exposing a bit of Harry’s decollage. 

Even though no one but Tom was looking at her, she wanted to cover back up; she had never been the type to show too much skin. 

“Leave it,” Tom commanded. 

Harry’s hand dropped to her side. She hadn’t realized she had been fiddling with the button. 

“Come with me,” Tom said, taking Harry’s hand again. “I want to show you something.” She led them through the alleyway, leaving Harry’s robe a crumpled afterthought on the ground. 

Tom led Harry to a construction site, where scaffolding encircled a building. “They’ve been renovating this theater for the last few years, and it’s close to being done. This is probably one of the few chances I can show you it, alone, before it reopens.” Tom flicked her bone white wand and the doors opened, the lights within turning on. 

Stepping into the building, Harry’s breath caught at the sight of it. Rich reds and golds painted the interior with an elegant decadence, giving it an air of a lounging emperor. Carved angels perched at the top of pillars, and a lush carpet sprawled out beneath her feet, but still, for Harry, the most dazzling thing here was Tom. 

“W-Why this place?” Harry asked. “Not that I mind it,” she tagged on quickly. 

Tom flashed Harry with a radiant smile that looked so amazing on her gorgeous face. “I used to come here when I was younger. I would explore the nooks and crannies, take odd jobs for a bit of pocket change, but mainly, I just watched everything. The people, the plays, the shear artistry, and I dreamed of a better place than where I was at the time.” She squeezed Harry’s hand, leading her inside the main theater. “I just wanted to share a place I love with someone I love.” 

Harry’s cheeks burned hotly, and she gulped down a breath of air. Tom wasn’t one for emotions or telling Harry about her past, and yet here it was, in one place. For Harry.

Turning away from the ceiling painted with dancing muses, Harry popped up to her feet and delivered a quick kiss on her cheek. “Who’s the romantic now?”

“You,” Tom said. 

Tom gripped Harry’s hand and pulled her to the front of the theatre, just a few feet from the stage. Tom pushed Harry into one of the chairs, straddled her, and kissed her again. The kiss in the alleyway had been soft, but firm. This, though, this was a needy, panicked desire, and Harry felt it just the same. Maybe more, based on the slickness forming between her thighs. 

Tom rested her hands on each side of Harry’s neck and pushed the sleeves of the dress down, exposing Harry’s bare shoulders. The next button popped open, revealing more of Harry’s breasts. 

“Ah—” Harry choked out between assaults on her mouth. “What if—ah! Someone comes in?” she managed to gasp out. 

Tom leaned back. “Then they get a show.” She leaned back against Harry, her breasts pressing against Harry’s. “I want to give you a show to remember.”

Sliding from Harry’s lap and onto the floor, Tom pushed Harry’s skirt up and legs apart. 

Harry fought the urge to push the hem of her skirt down and continued to recline back in the chair, completely exposed to Tom. Her heart pounded, the blood rushing through her ears so strongly she could barely hear. This was it. They were going to do more than kissing. Harry bit her lip, undoing her dress completely and freeing her arms. She kicked off her shoes and was now nude, except for Tom’s locket.

Never let it be said that Harry Potter was a coward. Turning her triumphant gaze to Tom, she felt the smallest feeling of shock pass through her system at the sight in front of her. 

Tom was kneeling back, the button and zipper of her pants undone, her hand moving slow circles as Tom pleasured herself. 

“You look gorgeous,” Tom said breathlessly. “Touch yourself, Harry. Let me see what you can do.” 

Green eyes locked on Tom’s dark ones, and Harry was more than happy to comply. 

She raised her hand up, brushing lightly against her abdomen, her fingertips touching the encrusted emeralds of the locket before travelling the rest of the way up to her neck. Harry touched her collarbone and then moved down to her breasts. Cupping her left breast, Harry pinched her stiffened nipple, something Tom seemed to enjoy tormenting her with. She rolled it between her fingers, her hand moving from her abdomen to her inner thigh. 

Harry licked her lips and leered at Tom. Tom with her beautiful, black hair and devious smile. She stroked her soft thigh for a moment, then dipped her index and middle finger inside. Pulling them out, she separated them for Tom. 

There was no denying she was wet. Her fingers were probably shiny with how excited she was, but she could barely keep herself spread open with them. They were so slick.

Tom released a shuddering breath, and the movement of her arm picked up. 

Harry closed her lips and started to rub circles on her clit, the friction creating sparks of pleasure as she continued her ministrations. It felt good, as good as anytime she had touched herself in the dormitories, imagining Tom touching her. That was the past, though. Now, Harry wanted the actual Tom to be doing this to her. 

“Tom,” she moaned, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back. “I want you.”

Barely a second later, Tom’s lips were on Harry’s. Her tongue darted into Harry’s mouth, tasting her. Gripping her right wrist, Tom pulled Harry’s hand away from her clit between them instead. 

Harry and Tom made eye contact as Tom took Harry’s fingers into her mouth, sucking her juices off them. The only thing in Harry’s world at the moment was Tom and her tongue feeling like it was unnaturally wrapped around her fingers. 

Releasing her grip on Harry’s wrist, Tom began lowering herself down her body. She nipped at Harry’s throat, kissed her collarbone, and squeezed Harry’s breasts, pinching them harder than Harry would have liked, but it still shot like lightning to her cunt. Tom rolled her nipples between her fingers for a second. “These would look good with piercings,” she said quietly before releasing them. 

Tom’s mouth visited her nipples, sucking on them briefly and then starting to kiss down Harry’s stomach, her hips, and … Harry’s brain briefly stopped when Tom rested her head against Harry’s thigh, her breath hot against Harry’s slit. 

“I like how you smell,” Tom said and then leaned in, her tongue pressing hard against Harry’s clit. 

Harry gasped and gripped the armrests of the seat, fighting the urge to put a hand on Tom’s head as she circled Harry’s clit with her tongue. 

It felt so good, each rotation seeming to sear Tom’s tongue into Harry’s very soul. 

“Oh god, oh god,” Harry whispered repeatedly, lifting her hips slightly and opening her legs wider. She wanted it all. 

Tom shifted down slightly, her tongue dipping between Harry’s folds, tasting her slick. “I don’t think I will have ever been as privileged as I feel right now,” Tom whispered, drawing away from Harry and licking her lips. 

Staring at Tom through half-closed eyes, chest heaving, Harry wondered what exactly she meant by that. She wasn’t allowed to wonder about it for long, though. Tom pressed one, then two fingers inside of Harry and reattached her mouth to Harry’s clit, her fingers spreading out, stretching Harry’s cunt until she could insert a third finger. 

Harry almost wanted to protest the intrusion, that it was too much, but her slickness eased the way for Tom to thrust her fingers in and out while sucking and flicking Harry’s clit with her tongue. 

White-hot fire travelled up Harry’s spine, and she released a loud, throaty moan when Tom hit  _ something _ inside her, curling and uncurling her fingers in Harry. 

She couldn’t fight the urge any longer, and Harry rested her hand on the back of Tom’s head, pushing her closer in. Every wanton thought Harry had ever had crossed her mind as Tom worked her magic. Any dream she had of being a quidditch player or DADA teacher was gone; all she wanted was to be like this with Tom every minute of every day. She wanted to be naked and at Tom’s beck and call, her obedient wife, wearing what Tom wanted, doing what Tom wanted, being pleasured how Tom wanted. 

Tom’s pace picked up, her fingers thrusting in and out of Harry, her tongue licking harder and harder against her. 

Harry’s toes curled, the feeling of her orgasm building in her core, and she pressed even harder on the back of Tom’s head, releasing a long, drawn out moan that echoed through the theater around her as she came around Tom’s fingers. Her muscles clenched tight enough that it must have hurt, but Tom said nothing, merely continued and watched Harry ride out wave after wave of orgasm, only stopping when Harry’s limbs fell limp. 

With her head fallen against the back of the chair, the blissed-out Harry saw the ceiling of the theater for the first time. A beautiful circular mural was painted at the top, twelve women in a circle, holding hands, chasing after one another in the softest of colours. Smiles on their impressionistic faces, adoration in their eyes. Harry… She understood them. 

Her chest heaved as Tom extracted her fingers from Harry. She imagined she could hear Tom licking them clean, but was too boneless to be able to lift her head and look. So, she lay there naked, her arms hung limply at her sides and her legs open. Harry hoped Tom liked the results of her actions. 

She closed her eyes and smiled. “That was amazing.”

A small chuckle came from Tom, who was leaning over her, their bodies pressed together. “Good.” Tom’s lips pressed against Harry’s in a deep kiss, their tongues intertwining, and Harry once again thought of how unnaturally long Tom’s tongue was.

But, even in her blissed-out state, she felt like something was off. Tom’s plump lips weren’t… plump. They were thin, the skin taut. There was something else missing, their faces weren’t brushing together, Tom’s long black hair wasn’t brushing against Harry’s shoulders. The locket pulsed, the chain burning cold into her skin. 

Tom pulled away. “My turn?” Her voice was a higher pitch now. 

Opening her eyes, Harry bit back a scream. Lord Voldemort loomed above Harry, her red eyes pinning Harry down like a butterfly to a board. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks once again to my boo bear eris for betaing this! i think i owe her like my soul or something


End file.
